James  Gilmour 

Pioneer  in  Mongolia 


SOURCE  BOOK 

“James  Gilmour  of  Mongolia” 
By  Richard  Lovett 


Baptist  Board  of  Education 

DEPARTMENT  OF  MISSIONARY  EDUCATION 

276  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City 


OUTLINE 


PAGE 


Introductory  Statement  .  2 

Program  for  Meeting .  3 

Life  Sketch .  4 

Life  Incidents .  7 


Program  based  on  James  Gilmour  of  Mongolia 

by  Richard  Lovett 
Revell,  $2.00 

FOREWORD 

THE  Missionary  Heroes  Course  for  Boys  meets  a  real  need. 

It  is  a  series  of  missionary  programs  for  boys,  based  on  great 
biographies  which  every  boy  should  know.  Course  Number  One, 
now  available,  provides  programs  for  the  ensuing  twelve  months 
and  may  be  used  in  the  monthly  meetings  of  boys’  groups. 
Other  courses  are  in  preparation  and  will  be  issued  for  subse¬ 
quent  years. 

It  is  suggested  that  the  leader  purchase  three  copies  of  each 
leaflet ;  one  to  be  kept  for  reference  and  the  other  two  to  be 
cut  up  to  provide  each  boy  with  his  assigned  part.  In  order  to 
tie  together  the  life  incidents  as  they  are  presented  by  the  boys, 
the  leader  should  master  the  facts  outlined  in  the  biographical 
sketch  and  read  carefully  the  volume  upon  which  the  program 
is  based.  These  volumes  are  missionary  classics  and  may  be 
made  the  basis  of  a  worth-while  library  of  Christian  adventure. 

Boys  are  keenly  interested  in  stories  of  adventure  and 
achievement  and  it  is  hoped  that  participation  in  the  programs 
will  lead  many  of  the  lads  to  read  these  great  missionary  biog¬ 
raphies.  Attention  is  called  to  the  eleven  other  life-story  pro¬ 
grams  in  the  series  now  available  for  Course  Number  One,  and 
to  the  series  now  in  preparation  for  the  ensuing  year,  both  of 
which  are  listed  on  the  last  page.  The  books  upon  which  these 
programs  are  based  can  be  ordered  from  the  nearest  literature 
headquarters.  Portraits  of  these  missionary  heroes  will  also  be 
made  available  for  purchase. 

While  these  programs  have  been  developed  to  meet  the  needs 
of  boys’  organizations  of  all  types — i.e.,  Organized  Classes,  Boy 
Scouts,  Knights  of  King  Arthur,  Kappa  Sigma  Pi,  etc. — they 
were  especially  prepared  for  the  chapters  of  the  Royal  Ambas¬ 
sadors ,  a  missionary  organization  for  teen  age  boys,  originating 
in  the  southland  and  recently  adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  North¬ 
ern  Baptist  Convention  by  the  Department  of  Missionary  Edu¬ 
cation.  We  commend  these  materials  to  all  lovers  of  boys. 

William  A.  Hill. 


PROGRAM  FOR  MEETING 


1.  Scripture  Lesson:  I  Corinthians  9:16-27  beginning:  “Yea, 
woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel.”  One  of  the 
memorable  utterances  of  James  Gilmour  is:  “The  fire  of 
God  is  upon  me  to  go  and  preach.”  (See  page  184  of 
Lovett’s  “James  Gilmour  of  Mongolia.”) 

2.  Prayer. 

3.  Hymn:  “From  Greenland’s  icy  Mountains”  (changed  by 
Gilmour  to  “Mongolia’s”). 

4.  Introduction  to  the  Life  Story*  (based  on  pages  1-40  of 
Lovett’s  “James  Gilmour  of  Mongolia.”) 

5.  His  Conversion  and  Decision  to  Become  a  Missionary  (pages 
41-43). 

6.  Sketches  of  His  Earlier  Travels  (page  66). 

7.  His  Medical  Work  (pages  93,  130-132). 

8.  His  Proposal  and  Marriage  to  Emily  Prankard  (pages  98-99, 

99-100). 

9.  Soul  Winning  Under  Difficulties  (pages  162-163). 

10.  Enduring  Hardness  as  a  Good  Soldier  (pages  182-183). 

11.  Substituting  for  a  Trained  Doctor  (pages  265-266,  286,  287- 
288). 

12.  Account  of  His  Death  (pages  300-301). 


*  The  leader  should  read  both  the  brief  sketch  in  this  leaflet  and  Lovett’s  “James 
Gilmour  of  Mongolia,”  in  order,  as  the  program  progresses,  to  fill  in  the  gaps  between 
the  assignments. 


3 


SKETCH  OF  THE  LIFE  OF 
JAMES  GILMOUR 


JAMES  GILMOUR  was  born  at  Cathkin,  Scotland,  on  June 
12,  1843.  His  father,  a  wheelwright,  was  in  fairly  com¬ 
fortable  circumstances.  He  was  afforded  the  best  educational 
advantages,  preparing  for  college  in  the  Glasgow  high  school 
and  entering  Glasgow  University.  Here  he  took  high  rank. 
Soon  after  he  entered  the  University,  he  gave  his  heart  to 
Christ  and  during  his  course,  decided  to  serve  as  a  missionary 
where  the  need  was  greatest. 

On  February  22,  1870,  he  set  sail  from  Liverpool,  destined 
for  China,  with  his  mind  fixed  upon  Mongolia  as  the  field  for 
his  life’s  work.  He  had  said:  “Men  in  the  most  difficult  and 
dangerous  fields  should  be  the  best  armed  and  the  best  equipped.” 
He  admirably  fulfilled  his  own  requirements  for  Mongolia. 

He  arrived  at  Peking  May  18,  1870,  and  applied  himself 
to  the  Chinese  language  with  a  view  to  reopening  the  work  in 
Mongolia  that  had  been  closed  in  1841  by  the  Russian  govern¬ 
ment.  Early  in  August  he  left  Peking  for  a  tour  of  Mongolia 
and  on  the  27th  started  from  Kalgan,  crossing  the  great  plain 
of  Mongolia  to  Kiachta.  No  better  way  of  learning  the  language 
and  studying  the  people  could  be  found  than  by  this  close 
contact  with  the  Mongolians  in  their  tents. 

Two  years  later,  on  April  16,  1872,  he  started  from  Peking 
on  a  tour  of  eastern  Mongolia,  the  district  that  wras  to  be  the 
scene  of  the  closing  labor  of  his  life.  Here  he  found  the  Mongols 
living  in  huts,  as  agriculturists,  their  fixed  residence  affording 
better  opportunity  for  permanent  work.  He  won  a  large 
hearing  by  rendering  friendly  medical  aid  to  needy  patients. 
He  dispensed  his  remedial  supplies  from  a  tent  which  bore  in 
Mongolian  this  placard:  “THE  GOSPEL  HALL  OF  THE 
RELIGION  OF  JESUS.”  Of  his  work,  he  wrote:  “By  healing 
their  diseases,  I  have  had  opportunity  to  tell  many  of  Jesus, 
the  Great  Physician.” 

During  his  stays  in  Peking,  he  had  lived  with  fellow  mis¬ 
sionaries,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  E.  Meeeh,  and  was  deeply  interested 


4 


in  a  photograph  of  the  'sister  of  Mrs.  Meech,  Emily  Prankard. 
He  determined  upon  the  bold  course  of  proposing  marriage  by 
letter.  She  had  heard  much  of  him  through  her  sister’s  letters 
and  wrote  a  letter  of  acceptance.  Immediate  plans  were  made 
for  sailing  and  she  arrived  in  Tientsin  the  last  of  November. 
On  December  8,  1874,  they  were  married.  Eleven  happy  years 
followed,  their  home  being  brightened  by  the  birth  of  two 
promising  boys. 

The  years  were  filled  with  special  duties  at  Peking  and 
frequent  tenting  trips  into  Mongolia,  on  which  he  was  often 
accompanied  by  his  courageous  and  devoted  wife.  She,  too, 
taking  advantage  of  necessity,  made  rapid  progress  in  acquiring 
the  language.  After  a  time,  however,  the  hardship  told  upon 
Mrs.  Gilmonr’s  health,  so  they  sailed  for  England  in  the  spring 
of  1882. 

While  in  the  homeland  he  prepared  the  book,  “Among  the 
Mongols,”  which  was  received  with  great  interest  and  favor. 
Much  of  his  time  was  devoted  to  making  addresses  in  behalf 
of  the  missionary  enterprises.  The  eighteen  months  passed 
quickly  and  in  September,  1883,  they  sailed  again  for  China. 

Shortly  after  his  return  lie  made  a  trip  on  foot  across  the 
Mongolian  plain  in  order  to  do  personal  work  with  Mongolians 
upon  the  road  and  in  the  tents.  His  first  convert  won  to  Christ 
was  Boyinto,  a  Buddhist  priest,  who  was  baptized  on  January 
14,  1885,  by  W.  P.  Sprague,  of  the  American  Board.  But  his 
joy  was  soon  clouded  by  the  failing  health  of  Mrs.  Gilmour. 
Exposure  during  the  tours  of  Mongolia  had  weakened  her  lungs 
and  on  September  19,  1885,  she  passed  away. 

For  a  time  his  boys  were  cared  for  by  their  aunt,  Mrs.  Meech, 
but  the  next  spring  he  placed  them  under  the  care  of  their 
uncle,  in  Scotland.  Tender  and  instructive  letters  were  fre¬ 
quently  sent  across  the  seas  to  the  motherless  boys. 

With  noble  heroism  Gilmour  wrote  home:  “Man,  the  fire 
of  God  is  upon  me  to  go  and  preach,”  and  he  again  took  up  his 
work,  changing  his  field  to  eastern  Mongolia.  He  made  his 
base  at  Ta  Cheng  Tzu,  in  the  midst  of  a  populous  farming 
district.  On  November  21,  1886,  he  baptized  his  first  fruits 
in  eastern  Mongolia,  two  Chinese  believers.  He  had  been 
promised  a  medical  helper,  both  to  relieve  his  loneliness  and  to 
minister  to  the  needy  people.  Reinforcements  were  delayed 
and  with  sublime  courage  he  wrote  home:  “I  shall  do  my  best 
to  hold  on  here  single-handed.”  Finally,  in  March,  1889,  he 
was  joined  by  Dr.  Smith,  whose  trained  eye  soon  perceived  that 
Gilmour  was  near  the  breaking  point  from  overwork,  and  who 
insisted  that  he  return  to  England  for  a  needed  rest. 


5 


Arriving  in  London  May  25,  1889,  he  went  directly  to  see  his 
boys  at  the  home  of  his  brother.  Part  of  his  furlough  was 
spent  with  them  in  an  outing  at  Millport,  where  six  years 
before  he  had  passed  the  summer  with  his  wife  and  children. 
In  bidding  his  friends  farewell  in  January,  1890,  he  seemed  to 
have  a  premonition  he  would  never  return,  for  he  said,  with 
quivering  lips,  “I  shall  see  your  faces  no  more.” 

Ten  days  after  reaching  Peking  on  March  24,  1890,  he 
started  for  eastern  Mongolia.  Resuming  the  routine  duties  with 
earnest  fidelity,  he  was  rejoiced  by  the  privilege  of  baptizing 
six  Chinese  converts,  and  the  arrival  of  a  helper,  Mr.  Parker. 
In  April  of  the  following  year,  he  was  called  to  Tientsin  to 
serve  as  chairman  of  the  annual  meeting  of  the  North  China 
District  Committee.  Here  he  was  the  guest  of  Dr.  Roberts, 
who  had  replaced  Dr.  John  K.  Mackenzie  upon  his  death.  In 
the  midst  of  his  duties  he  was  stricken  with  typhoid  fever  and 
on  May  21,  1891,  while  in  his  forty-eighth  year,  passed  away. 
Like  Henry  Martyn,  he  had  “burned  out  for  God,”  lighting  an 
undying  torch  in  a  darkened  land. 


I 


INCIDENTS  IN  THE  LIFE  OF 
JAMES  GILMOUR 

Reprinted  from  “James  Gilmour  of  Mongolia,” 

by  Rickard  Lovett, 

by  permission  of  the  publishers,  Fleming  II .  Revell  Co. 

His  Conversion  and  Decision  to  Become  a  Missionary. 
(P.  41-43.) 

“My  conversion  took  place  after  I  had  begun  to  attend  the 
Arts  course  in  the  University  of  Glasgow.  I  had  gone  to  college 
with  no  definite  aim  as  to  preparing  for  a  profession ;  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  was  offered  me  of  attending  classes,  and  I  embraced 
it  gladly,  confident  that  whatever  training  or  knowledge  I  might 
there  acquire  would  prove  serviceable  to  me  afterwards  in  some 
way  or  other. 

“After  I  became  satisfied  that  I  had  found  the  ‘way  of  life,’ 
I  decided  to  tell  others  of  that  way,  and  felt  that  I  lay  under 
responsibility  to  do  what  I  could  to  extend  Christ’s  kingdom. 
Among  other  plans  of  usefulness  that  suggested  themselves  to 
me  was  that  of  entering  the  ministry.  But,  in  my  opinion,  there 
were  two  things  that  everyone  who  sought  the  office  of  the 
ministry  should  have,  viz.,  an  experimental  knowledge  of  the 
truth  which  it  is  the  work  of  the  minister  to  preach,  and  a 
good  education  to  help  him  to  do  it;  the  former  I  believed  I 
had,  the  latter  I  hoped  to  obtain.  So  I  quietly  pursued  the 
college  course  till  I  entered  on  the  last  session,  when,  after 
prayerful  considerat’on  and  mature  deliberation,  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  offer  myself  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry. 

“Having  decided  as  to  the  capacity  in  which  I  should  labour 
in  Christ’s  kingdom,  the  next  thing  which  occupied  my  serious 
attention  was  the  locality  where  I  should  labour.  Occasionally 
before  I  had  thought  of  the  relative  claims  of  the  home  and 
foreign  fields,  but  during  the  summer  session  in  Edinburgh  I 
thought  the  matter  out,  and  decided  for  the  mission  field ;  even 
on  the  low  ground  of  common  sense  I  seemed  to  be  called  to  be 
a  missionary.  Is  the  kingdom  a  harvest  field?  Then  I  thought 
it  reasonable  that  I  should  seek  to  work  where  the  work  was 
most  abundant  and  the  workers  fewest.  Labourers  say  they 

7 


are  overtaxed  at  home ;  what  then  must  be  the  case  abroad, 
where  there  are  wide  stretching  plains  already  white  to  harvest 
with  scarcely  here  and  there  a  solitary  reaper?  To  me  the  soul 
of  an  Indian  seemed  as  precious  as  the  soul  of  an  Englishman, 
and  the  Gospel  as  much  for  the  Chinese  as  for  the  European ; 
and  as  the  band  of  missionaries  was  few  compared  with  the 
company  of  home  ministers,  it  seemed  to  me  clearly  to  be  my 
duty  to  go  abroad. 

“But  I  go  out  as  a  missionary  not  that  I  may  follow  the 
dictates  of  common  sense,  but  that  I  may  obey  that  command  of 
Christ,  ‘Go  into  all  the  world  and  preach.’  He  who  said 
‘preach’  said  also  ‘Go  ye  into  and  preach,’  and  what  Christ 
hath  joined  together  let  not  man  put  asunder. 

“This  command  seems  to  me  to  be  strictly  a  missionary 
injunction,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  those  to  whom  it  was  first 
delivered  regarded  it  in  that  light,  so  that,  apart  altogether 
from  choice  and  other  lower  reasons,  my  going  forth  is  a  matter 
of  obedience  to  a  plain  command ;  and  in  place  of  seeking  to 
assign  a  reason  for  going  abroad,  I  would  prefer  to  say  that 
I  have  failed  to  discover  any  reason  why  I  should  stay  at  home.  ’ 7 

Sketches  of  Ills  Earlier  Travels.  ( P .  66.) 

“One  thing  I  sometimes  think  of.  I  left  Britain  with  no 
intention  of  traveling;  I  expected  to  settle  down  quietly  and 
confine  myself  to  a  circle  I  could  impress.  This  plan  has  been 
completely  changed  and  overruled.  Two  months  have  I  been  in 
Peking ;  two  weeks  have  I  been  in  Ka'lgan ;  a  month  have  I  been 
in  the  desert ;  a  month  have  I  been  in  Kudara,  a  small  Russian 
frontier  military  post ;  a  month  and  a  half  have  I  been  in 
Kiachta ;  two  months  have  I  been  in  Mongolia ;  and  now  two 
weeks  have  I  been  traveling  in  Russia.  A  year  and  a  month 
have  elapsed  since  I  left  home,  and  during  that  time  I  have 
been  walking  to  and  fro  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  going 
up  and  down  in  it.  In  this  way  I  have  not  found  my  life  at 
all  dull,  but  very  stirring.  Indeed,  many  people  would  have 
left  home  to  travel  as  I  have  done.  I  sought  it  not ;  it  came, 
and  I  took  it.  So  as  yet  I  have  no  hardships  to  complain  of. 
To  see  the  places  and  things  I  have  seen — Liverpool,  Wales, 
Lisbon,  Rock  of  Gibraltar,  Malta,  Egypt,  Port  Said,  Suez  Canal, 
Red  Sea,  Cape  Gardafui,  Indian  Ocean,  Penang,  Straits  of 
Malacca,  Singapore,  Hong  Kong,  Shanghai,  Tientsin,  Peking, 
Kalgan,  Desert,  Urga  Kiachta,  Russia,  Baikal,  Irkutsk — only 
even  to  see  these,  men  will  make  long  journeys.  I  have  seen 
them  all  without  seeking  them,  with  the  exception  of  Baikal 
and  Irkutsk.  These  are  all  by  the  way,  and  I  dwell  upon  them 

8 


as  proofs  that  God,  in  sending-  His  servants  from  home  and 
kindred,  often  gives  them  pleasure  and  worldly  enjoyment  on 
the  way,  which  He  does  not  promise,  and  which  they  have  no 
right  to  expect.” 

His  Medical  Work.  ( P .  03,  130-132.) 

“I  know  very  little  about  diseases  and  cures,  but  the  little 
I  do  know  is  extremely  useful.  Almost  every  Mongol,  man  and 
woman  and  child,  has  something  that  wants  putting  right.  To 
have  studied  medicine  at  home  would  have  been  a  great  help, 
but  though  I  cannot  hope  now  ever  to  gain  a  scientific  knowledge 
of  the  subject,  I  am  glad  that  in  our  hospital  here  I  have  a 
good  opportunity  of  learning  much  from  Dr.  Dudgeon,  and  all 
I  can  do  now  is  to  make  the  best  of  this  good  opportunity.  I 
am  told  that  professional  men  at  home  are  suspicious  of  giving 
a  little  medical  knowledge  to  young  men  going  out  as  mis¬ 
sionaries.  I  sided  with  them  till  I  came  here,  but  here  the  case 
is  different.  At  home  it  is  all  very  well  to  stand  before  the  fire 
in  your  room,  within  sight  of  the  brass  plate  on  the  doctor’s 
door  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  talk  about  the 
danger  of  little  knowledge;  but  when  you  are  two  weeks’  journey 
from  any  assistance,  and  see  your  fellow-traveller  sitting  silent 
and  swollen  with  violent  toothache  for  days  together,  you 
fervently  wish  you  had  a  pair  of  forceps  and  the  dangerous 
amount  of  knowledge.  And  when  in  remote  places  you  have 
the  choice  of  burying  your  servant  or  stopping  his  diarrhoea, 
would  you  prefer  to  talk  nonsense  about  professional  skill  rather 
than  give  him  a  dose  of  chlorodyne,  even  though  it  should  be  at 
the  risk  of  administering  one  drop  more  or  less  than  a  man 
who  writes  M.D.  to  his  name  would  have  done? 

“I  speak  earnestly  and  from  experience.  No  one  lias  more 
detestation  than  I  have  for  the  cpiack  that  patters  in  the  presence 
of  trained  skill ;  but  from  what  I  have  seen  and  known  of 
mission  life,  both  in  myself  and  others,  since  coming  to  North 
China,  I  think  it  is  a  little  less  than  culpable  homicide  to  deny 
a  little  hospital  training  to  men  who  may  have  to  pass  weeks 
and  months  of  their  lives  in  places  where  they  themselves,  or 
those  about  them,  may  sicken  and  die  from  curable  diseases 
before  the  doctor  could  be  summoned,  even  supposing  he  could 
leave  his  part  and  come.  .  .  . 

“The  diseases  presented  for  treatment  are  legion,  but  the 
most  common  cases  are  skin  diseases  and  diseases  of  the  eye 
and  teeth.  Perhaps  rheumatism  is  the  disease  of  Mongolia; 
but  the  manner  of  life  and  customs  of  the  Mongols  are  such 


9 


that  it  is  useless  to  attempt  to  cure  it.  Cure  it  to-day,  it  is 
contracted  again  to-morrow.  Skin  diseases  present  a  fair  field 
for  a  medical  missionary.  They  are  so  common,  and  the  Mon¬ 
golian  treatment  of  them  is  so  far  removed  from  common  sense 
that  anyone  with  a  few  medicines  and  a  little  intelligence  has 
ample  opportunity  of  benefitting  many  sufferers.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  the  eye.  The  glare  of  the  sun  on  the  plain  at  all 
seasons,  except  when  the  grass  is  fresh  and  green  in  summer, 
the  blinding  sheen  from  the  snowy  expanse  in  winter,  and  the 
continual  smoke  that  hangs  like  a  cloud  two  or  three  feet  above 
the  floor  of  the  tent,  all  combine  to  attack  the  eye.  Eye  diseases 
are  therefore  very  common.  The  Lama  medicines  seem  to  be 
able  to  do  nothing  for  such  cases,  and  a  few  remedies  in  a 
foreigner’s  hands  work  cures  that  seem  wonderful  to  the 
Mongols. 

“In  many  cases,  when  a  Mongol  applies  to  his  doctor,  he 
simply  extends  his  hand,  and  expects  that  the  doctor  by  simply 
feeling  his  pulse,  will  be  able  to  tell,  not  only  the  disease,  but 
what  will  cure  it.  As  soon  as  the  doctor  has  felt  the  pulse  of  one 
hand,  the  patient  at  once  extends  the  other  hand  that  the  pulse 
may  be  felt  there  also,  and  great  surprise  is  manifested  when 
a  foreigner  begins  his  diagnosis  of  a  case  by  declining  the 
proffered  wrist  and  asking  questions. 

“The  question  of  ‘How  did  you  get  this  disease?’  often 
elicits  some  curiously  superstitious  replies.  One  man  lays  the 
blame  on  the  stars  and  constellations.  Another  confesses  that 
when  he  was  a  lad  he  was  mischievous,  and  dug  holes  in  the 
ground  or  cut  shrubs  on  the  hill,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  see 
how  he  regards  the  disease  as  a  punishment  for  digging,  since 
by  digging,  worms  are  killed ;  but  what  cutting  wood  on  a  hill 
can  have  to  do  with  sin  it  is  harder  to  see,  except  it  be  regarded 
as  stealing  the  possessions  of  the  spiritual  lord  of  the  locality. 
In  consulting  a  doctor,  too,  a  Mongol  seems  to  lay  a  deal  of 
stress  on  the  belief  that  it  is  his  fate  to  be  cured  by  the  medical 
man  in  question,  and,  if  he  finds  relief,  often  says  that  his 
meeting  this  particular  doctor  and  being  cured  is  the  result  of 
prayers  made  at  some  previous  time. 

“One  difficulty  in  curing  Mongols  is  that  they  frequently, 
when  supplied  with  medicines,  depart  entirely  from  the  doctor’s 
instructions  when  they  apply  them;  and  a  not  unfrequent 
case  is  that  of  the  patient  who,  after  applying  to  the  foreigner 
for  medicine  and  getting  it,  is  frightened  by  his  success,  or 
scared  by  some  lying  report  of  his  neighbours,  or  staggered 
at  the  fact  that  the  foreigner  would  not  feel  his  pulse,  or  feel 
it  at  one  wrist  only,  lays  aside  the  medicine  carefully  and  does 
not  use  it  at  all. 


10 


“In  Mongolia,  too,  a  foreigner  is  often  asked  to  perform 
absurd,  laughable,  or  impossible  cures.  One  man  wants  to  be 
made  clever,  another  to  be  made  fat,  another  to  be  cured  of 
insanity,  another  of  tobacco,  another  of  whisky,  another  of 
hunger,  another  of  tea;  another  wants  to  be  made  strong,  so  as 
to  conquer  in  gymnastic  exercises ;  most  men  want  medicine  to 
make  their  beards  grow ;  while  almost  every  man,  woman  and 
child  wants  to  have  his  or  her  skin  made  as  white  as  that 
of  the  foreigner.’7 


His  Proposal  and  Marriage  to  Emily  Prankard.  ( P. 

08-00 ,  00-100.) 

During  the  year  1873  James  Gilmour  devoted  much  thought 
to  the  natural  and  all-important  question  of  marriage  Un¬ 
common  as  he  was,  in  so  many  ways,  it  was  perhaps  to  be 
expected  that  in  this  great  undertaking  he  would  depart  from 
ordinary  methods.  The  Rev.  S.  E.  Meech  had  married,  in  1872, 
Miss  Prankard,  of  London.  After  the  return  of  Mr.  Edkins 
to  England,  in  May,  1873,  Mr.  Gilmour  went  to  board  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Meech.  There  he  saw  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Meech ’s 
sister,  and  often  heard  her  referred  to  in  conversation.  Towards 
the  close  of  1873  he  took  Mrs.  Meech  into  his  confidence,  and 
asked  permission  to  enter  into  correspondence  with  her  sister. 
The  following  most  characteristic  letters  show  the  course  of 
subsequent  events : 

“Peking,  January  14,  1874 

“My  dear  Parents, 

“I  have  written  and  proposed  to  a  girl  in  England.  It  is 
true  I  have  never  seen  her  and  I  know  very  little  about  her, 
but  what  I  do  know  is  good.  She  is  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Meech, 
and  is  with  her  mother  in  London.  Her  mother  supports  her¬ 
self  and  daughter  by  keeping  a  school.  One  of  the  hindrances 
will  be  perhaps  that  the  mother  will  not  be  willing  to  part 
with  her  daughter,  as  she  is,  no  doubt,  the  life  of  the  school. 
I  don’t  know,  so  I  have  written  and  made  the  offer,  and  leave 
them  to  decide.  If  she  cannot  come,  then  there  is  no  harm 
done.  If  she  can  arrange  to  come,  then  my  hope  is  fulfilled. 
If  the  young  lady  says  ‘Yes, ’  she  or  her  friends  will  no 
doubt  write  you  as  I  have  asked  them  to  do.  .  .  .  You  may 

think  I  am  rash  in  writing  to  a  girl  I  have  never  seen.  If 
you  say  so,  I  may  just  say  that  I  have  something  of  the  same 
feeling;  but  what  am  I  to  do?  In  addition  I  am  very  easy- 
minded  over  it  all,  because  I  have  exercised  the  best  of  my 
thoughts  on  the  subject,  and  put  the  whole  matter  into  the 

11 


hands  of*  God,  asking  Him,  if  it  be  best,  to  bring  her,  if  it  be 
not  best,  to  keep  her  away,  and  He  can  manage  the  whole 
thing  well.” 

By  some  mischance  this  letter  was  delayed,  and  Mr. 
Gilmour’s  relatives  were  startled,  one  March  day  in  1874,  by 
receiving  from  an  entirely  unknown  lady  in  London  a  letter, 
containing  the  unlooked-for  statement:  “Your  son,  Mr.  Gilmour, 
of  Peking,  has  asked  my  daughter  to  write  to  you,  telling  you 
of  her  decision  to  join  him  as  his  wife.  She  has  wished  me  to 
write  to  you  for  her,  and  will  be  pleased  to  hear  from  you 
when  you  feel  inclined  to  write.” 

The  friendly  intercourse  that  followed  soon  convinced  Mr. 
Gilmour’s  family,  as  any  knowledge  of  Emily  Prankard  herself 
soon  convinced  all  who  made  her  acquaintance,  that,  however 
unusual  it  might  appear,  this  was  indeed,  one  of  the  marriages 
made  in  heaven. 

No  time  was  lost  in  the  arrangements  for  Miss  Prankard  ’s 
departure  to  China.  In  a  letter  to  his  mother,  dated  October  2, 
1874,  Mr.  Gilmour  writes : 

“You  have  seen  Miss  Prankard,  but  you  have  not  told  me 
what  you  think  of  her.  She  was  delighted  with  her  visit  to 
Scotland  and  with  you  all.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I 
have  had  some  delightful  letters  from  her.  I  wrote  her,  and 
she  has  written  me  in  the  most  unrestrained  way  concerning 
her  spiritual  hopes  and  condition,  and  though  we  have  never 
seen  each  other,  yet  we  know  more  of  each  other’s  inmost 
life  and  soul  than,  I  am  quite  certain,  most  lovers  know  of 
each  other  even  after  long  personal  courtship.  It  is  quite  de¬ 
lightful  to  think  that  even  now  we  can  talk  by  letter  with 
perfect  unreserve,  and  I  tell  you  this  because  I  know  you  will 
be  glad  to  hear  it.  I  knew  she  was  a  pious  girl,  else  I  would 
not  have  asked  her  to  come  out  to  be  a  missionary’s  wife,  but 
she  turns  out  better  even  than  I  thought,  and  I  am  not  much 
afraid  as  to  how  we  shall  get  on  together.”  .  . 

“I  proposed  in  January,  went  up  to  Mongolia  in  spring, 
rode  about  on  my  camels  till  July,  and  came  down  to  Kalgan  to 
find  that  I  was  an  accepted  man !  I  went  to  Tientsin  to  meet 
her ;  we  arrived  here  on  Thursday,  and  were  married  on  Tuesday 
morning.  We  had  a  quiet  week,  then  I  went  to  the  country  on 
a  nine  days’  tour,  and  came  back  two  days  before  Christmas. 
We  have  been  at  home  ever  since.  Such  is  the  romance  of  a 
matter  of  fact  man.” 


12 


Soul  Winning  Under  Difficulties.  (P.  162-163.) 

“The  priest  (Boyinto)  I  had  come  to  visit  was  busy  lighting 
a  fire  which  would  do  nothing  but  smoke,  and  the  room  was 
soon  full.  Finding  him  alone,  I  told  him  that  I  had  come  to 
speak  to  him  and  my  other  friends  about  the  salvation  of  their 
souls,  and  was  pressing  him  to  accept  Christ,  when  a  Lama  I 
also  knew  entered.  Without  waiting  for  me  to  say  anything, 
the  priest  related  the  drift  of  our  conversation  to  the  Lama, 
who,  tongs  in  hand,  was  trying  to  make  the  fire  blaze.  Blaze 
it  would  not,  but  sent  forth  an  increasing  volume  of  smoke, 
and  the  Lama,  invisible  to  me  in  the  dense  cloud,  though  only 
about  two  yards  away,  spoke  up  and  said  that  for  months  he 
had  been  a  scholar  of  Jesus,  and  that  if  the  priest  would  join 
him  they  would  become  Christians  together.  Whether  the  priest 
would  join  him  or  not,  his  mind  was  made  up,  he  would  trust  the 
Saviour.  By  this  time  the  cloud  had  settled  down  lower  still. 
I  was  lying  flat  on  the  platform,  and  the  two  men  were  crouching 
on  the  floor — I  could  just  see  dimly  the  bottom  of  their  skin 
coats — but  the  place  was  beautiful  to  me  as  the  gate  of  heaven, 
and  the  words  of  the  confession  of  Christ  from  out  of  the 
cloud  of  smoke  were  inspiriting  to  me  as  if  they  had  been 
spoken  by  an  angel  from  out  of  a  cloud  of  glory. 

“But  neighbors  came  in,  duty  called  the  blackman  Lama 
away,  the  evening  meal  had  to  be  prepared  and  eaten,  and  it 
was  not  till  late  at  night  that  I  had  opportunity  for  a  private 
talk  with  him  who  had  confessed  Christ ;  and  even  then  it  was 
not  private,  because  we  were  within  earshot  of  a  family  of 
people  in  their  beds. 

“Of  all  the  countries  I  have  visited,  Mongolia  is  the  most 
sparsely  peopled,  and  yet  it  is,  of  all  the  places  I  have  seen, 
the  most  difficult  to  get  private  conversation  with  any  one. 
Everybody,  even  half-grown  children,  seems  to  think  he  has 
a  perfect  right  to  intrude  on  any  and  all  conversation.  Bar 
the  door  and  deny  admittance,  and  you  would  be  suspected 
of  hatching  a  plot.  Take  a  man  away  for  a  stroll  that  you  may 
talk  to  him  in  quiet,  and  you  would  be  suspected  of  some  dan¬ 
gerous  enchantment.  Remembering  that  one  must  always  have 
some  definite  message  or  business  to  perform  when  he  travels, 
and  hoping  to  be  able  to  do  something  with  this  same  blackman, 
I  had  purposely  left,  in  the  Chinese  inn,  some  presents  which 
I  could  not  well  carry  with  me,  and  after  a  day’s  rest  the 
blackman  and  I  started  to  bring  them.  That  gave  us  twenty- 
three  miles’  private  conversation,  and  a  good  answer  to  give 
to  all  who  demanded,  ‘Where  are  you  going?’  ‘What  to  do?’ 


13 


He  gave  me  the  history  of  the  origin  and  growth  of  his  belief 
in  Christ.  I  taught  him  much  he  did  not  know,  and  at  a  lonely 
place  we  sat  down  and  lifted  our  voices  to  heaven  in  prayer. 
It  was  the  pleasantest  walk  I  ever  had  in  Mongolia,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  painful.  My  feet  broke  down  altogether. 
It  was  evident  I  could  not  walk  back  again  the  next  day,  so, 
acting  on  my  follower’s  advice,  by  a  great  effort  I  walked  into 
the  inn  as  if  my  feet  were  all  right ;  we  bargained  for  a  cart, 
and,  the  Chinaman  not  suspecting  the  state  of  my  feet,  we  got 
it  at  a  reasonable  rate.  Mongols  and  Chinese  joined  in  explain¬ 
ing  to  me  how  much  time  and  labour  I  would  have  saved  if  I 
had  hired  a  cart  at  first,  taken  everything  with  me,  and  not 
returned  to  the  inn  at  all.  From  their  point  of  view  they 
were  right ;  but  the  blackmail  and  I  looked  at  the  thing  from 
a  different  standpoint.  We  had  accomplished  our  purpose,  and 
felt  that  we  could  afford  to  let  our  neighbours  plume  them¬ 
selves  on  their  supposed  superior  wisdom.” 

Enduring  Hardness  as  a  Good  Soldier.  (P.  182-183.) 

“  Eager  to  see  some  more  of  the  country,  and  in  the  hope 
that  I  might  be  able  to  talk  to  him  on  the  way,  I  hired  a  Mongol 
to  carry  my  bedding  and  books,  and  made  a  descent  on  a 
village  thirty  miles  away.  The  general  cold  of  the  winter  was 
aggravated  by  a  snowstorm  which  overtook  us  at  the  little 
market  town,  and  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you  how  the  cold  felt 
that  day  as  I  paraded  that  one  street.  I  sold  a  fair  number  of 
books,  though  my  hands  were  too  much  benumbed  almost  to 
be  able  to  hand  the  books  out.  I  made  some  attempts  at 
preaching,  but  the  muscles  were  also  benumbed — that  day  was 
a  cold  day. 

“I  was  turned  out  of  two  respectable  inns  at  Bull  Town 
because  I  was  a  foot  traveller,  had  no  cart  or  animal,  that  is, 
and  had  to  put  up  in  a  tramp’s  tavern  because  I  came  as  a 
tramp. 

“Next  journey  I  made  I  hired  a  man  and  a  donkey.  The 
donkey  was  my  passport  to  respectability,  and  I  was  more 
comfortable  too,  being  able  to  take  more  bedding  with  me.  I 
was  warned  against  going  to  Ch’ao  Yang,  sixty  miles,  the  roads 
being  represented  as  unsafe;  but  I  went  and  found  no  trouble, 
though  there  was  a  severe  famine  in  the  district.  I  spent  a 
day  in  each  at  two  market  towns  on  the  way,  and  two  days  in 
Ch’ao  Yang  itself. 

“The  journey  home  I  made  on  foot,  a  donkey  driven  by  a 
Mongol  carrying  my  bedding  and  books.  I  adopted  this  plan 

14 


mainly  to  bring  myself  into  close  contact  with  the  Mongol. 
He  proved  himself  a  capital  fellow  to  travel  with,  but  as  yet 
has  shown  no  signs  of  belief  in  Christ.  As  we  did  long  marches 
my  feet , suffered  badly.” 

In  a  private  letter  written  at  this  time  he  enters  a  little 
more  fully  into  what  he  had  to  endure. 

“I  had  a  good  time  in  Mongolia,  but  Oh!  so  cold.  Some  of 
the  days  I  spent  in  the  markets  were  so  very  cold  that  my 
muscles  seemed  benumbed,  and  speech  even  was  difficult.  I 
met  with  some  spiritual  response,  though,  and  with  that  I  can 
stand  cold.  Eh!  man,  I  have  got  thin.  I  am  feeding  up  at 
present.  I  left  my  medicines,  books,  etc.,  there,  and  walked 
home  here,  a  donkey  carrying  my  baggage,  a  distance  of  about 
three  hundred  miles,  in  seven  and  a  half  days,  or  about  forty 
miles  a  day,  and  my  feet  were  really  very  bad. 

“At  night  I  used  to  draw  a  woolen  thread  through  the  blis¬ 
ters.  In  the  morning  I  ‘hirpled’  a  little,  but  it  was  soon  all  right. 
I  walked,  not  because  I  had  not  money  to  ride,  but  to  get  at  the 
Mongol  who  was  with  me.” 


Substituting  for  a  Trained  Doctor.  (P.  265-206,  286, 
287-288.) 

“I  am  more  than  ever  eager  to  have  the  medical  work  given 
over  to  a  medical  man.  One  day  in  Ch’ao  Yang  a  man  came 
swaggering  across  the  open  space  in  the  market-place.  People 
pointed  towards  him  and  laughed.  He  was  laughable,  the 
ridiculous  part  of  him  being  a  straw  hat  which  was  an  imitation, 
caricature  rather,  of  a  foreigner’s  hat.  I  could  not  help  laugh¬ 
ing.  It  was  no  laughing  matter,  though.  He  was  a  messenger 
from  the  cavalry  camp  just  outside  the  town.  He  had  come 
to  take  me  to  treat  two  soldiers  who  had  received  bullet-wounds 
in  an  encounter  with  Mongolian  brigands.  I  had  never  seen  a 
bullet-wound  in  my  life,  but  I  knew  I  could  do  more  for  the 
wounded  men  than  any  Chinese  doctor;  so  I  went.  The  wounds 
were  then  forty-eight  hours  old,  and  1  dressed  them  as  best 
I  could,  paying  a  daily  visit  for  about  a  fortnight.  Two  wounds, 
though  deep,  were  merely  flesh ;  with  these  1  had  no  difficulty. 
The  third  was  a  bone  complication.  I  knew  nothing  of  anatomy, 
had  no  books,  absolutely  nothing  to  consult;  what  could  I  do 
but  pray?  And  the  answer  was  startling.  The  third  morning, 
when  in  the  market-place  attending  to  the  ordinary  patients, 

15 


but  a  good  deal  preoccupied  over  the  bone  ease  which  I  had 
determined  should  be  finally  dealt  with  that  day  if  possible  at 
all,  there  tottered  up  to  me  through  the  crowd  a  live  skeleton, 
the  outline  of  nearly  every  bone  quite  distinct,  covered  only 
with  yellow  skin,  which  hung  about  in  loose  folds.  I  think 
I  see  him  yet — the  chin  as  distinctively  that  of  a  skeleton  as  if 
it  had  bleached  months  on  the  plain.  The  man  was  about 
seventy,  wore  a  pair  of  trousers,  and  had  a  loose  garment  thrown 
over  his  shoulders.  He  came  for  cough  medicine  I  think ;  if  so, 
he  got  it ;  but  I  was  soon  engaged  fingering  and  studying  the 
bone  I  had  to  see  to  that  afternoon.  I  was  deeply  thankful, 
but  amidst  all  my  gratitude  the  thing  seemed  so  comical  that 
I  could  not  help  smiling,  and  a  keen  young  Chinaman  in  the 
crowd  remarked,  in  an  undertone,  ‘That  smile  means  some¬ 
thing.’  So  it  did.  It  meant  among  other  things,  that  I  knew 
what  to  do  with  the  wounded  soldier’s  damaged  bone;  and  in 
a  short  time  his  wound  was  in  a  fair  way  healing.  I  was  and  am 
very  thankful,  but  after  all,  I  am  more  impressed  than  ever 
with  the  fact  that  things  are  badly  out  of  joint  when  there  are 
lots  of  Christian  doctors  at  home,  and  abroad  too,  and  I, 
knowing  less,  am  left  to  do  the  doctoring  in  a  large  district 
like  this  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  medical  help,  not  only  for 
the  natives  but  even  for  myself  should  I  need  it.”  .  .  . 

“Gilmour  is  doing  a  valuable  work.  Every  day  he  goes 
to  the  street  and  sets  out  his  table  with  his  boxes  of  medicines 
and  books.  He  has  three  narrow  benches,  on  one  of  which  he 
sits,  the  other  two  being  for  his  patients.  Of  the  latter  he 
has  any  amount,  coming  with  all  the  ills  to  which  humanity 
is  heir. 

“But  the  sights  of  misery,  suffering,  and  wretchedness  which 
gather  round  Gilmour ’s  stand  are  simply  appalling.  His  work 
seems  to  me  to  come  nearest  to  Christ’s  own  way  of  blessing 
men.  Healing  them  of  their  wounds,  giving  comfort  in  sickness, 
and  at  the  same  time  telling  them  the  gospel  of  Eternal  Salvation 
through  Jesus  Christ.  One  day  that  I  went  I  found  Gilmour 
tying  a  bandage  on  a  poor  beggar’s  knee.  The  beggar  was  a 
boy  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  entirely  naked,  with  the  exception 
of  a  piece  of  sacking  for  a  loin  cloth.  He  had  been  creeping 
about,  almost  frozen  with  cold,  and  a  dog  (who,  no  doubt, 
thought  he  was  simply  an  animated  bone)  had  attacked  him. 

“The  people  here  are  desperately  poor,  and  the  misery  and 
suffering  one  sees  crawling  through  the  streets  every  day  are 
heart-rending.” 


16 


Account  of  His  Death.  (P.  300-301 .) 

“  These  were  nearly  over  when  your  father  began  to  complain 
of  feeling  done  up  and  of  having  fever.  The  following  Sunday 
he  was  in  bed.  This  was  only  eleven  days  before  he  died.  On 
Monday,  however,  he  was  better,  and  up,  and  was  able  to  be 
with  us  all  day,  and  took  the  Communion  with  us  all  in  the 
evening.  Then  we  chatted  together  for  some  time  and  sang 
hymns,  amongst  others,  ‘  God  be  with  yon  till  we  meet  again !  ’ 
No.  494  in  Sankey’s  ‘Songs  and  Solos 3 

“In  this  connection  let  me  tell  yon  some  of  Mr.  Gilmour’s 
favorite  hymns  in  the  book  just  mentioned.  Among  these  were 
Nos.  494,  535,  150,  328.  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  learn 
them  and  sing  them  for  his  sake. 

“Your  dear  father  was  only  in  bed  ten  days  before  the  end 
came,  and  all  this  time  he  spoke  but  little.  He  was  too  feverish 
and  ill  to  want  to  talk  or  to  listen;  he  just  lav  quietly,  bearing 
his  sickness  with  remarkable  patience.  One  day,  observing  he 
was  a  little  restless,  I  went  to  his  bedside  and  asked  him  if  he 
wanted  anything.  ‘No,  nothing,’  was  his  reply,  ‘only  that 
the  Lord  would  deliver  me  out  of  this  distress.  ’ 


i  i 


i  i  t  rn , 


a  ( 


it  c 


The  last  few  days  his  mind  was  not  clear,  but  all  his 
wanderings  were  about  his  work.  It  was  the  last  day  but  one 
of  his  life ;  he  was  more  restless  than  usual,  trying  all  the  time 
to  rouse  himself,  as  if  for  a  journey,  when  he  looked  up  and 
said,  ‘Where  are  we  going?’ 

To  heaven,’  I  answered,  ‘to  see  the  Lord.’ 

No,’  he  replied,  ‘that  is  not  the  address.’ 

Yes,  it  is,  Mr.  Gilmour, ’  I  said  again.  ‘We  are  going  to 
heaven;  would  you  not  like  to  go  and  see  the  Lord  Jesus?’ 

“Then  he  seemed  to  take  in  the  meaning  of  my  words,  and 
reverently  bowed  his  head  in  assent,  his  lips  quivered,  and  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears;  and  he  was  quieted,  like  a  weary  child 
who  has  lost  his  way  and  finds  on  inquiry  that  only  a  few 
more  steps  and  he  will  be  at  rest  and  at  home. 

“The  next  day,  his  last,  was  still  more  restless.  At  one  time 
he  seemed  to  be  addressing  an  audience  and  earnestly  gesticu¬ 
lating  with  his  hands;  and  with  as  much  force  as  he  could 
command,  be  said,  ‘We  are  not  spending  the  time  as  we  should; 
we  ought  to  be  waiting  on  God  in  prayer  for  blessing  on  the 
work  he  has  given  us  to  do.  I  would  like  to  make  a  rattling 
speech — but  I  cannot — I  am  very  ill — and  can  only  say  these 
few  words.’  And  then  he  nodded  his  head  and  waved  his 
hand  as  if  in  farewell  to  his  listeners. 


17 


“It  was  seven  o’clock  in  the  evening  when  my  brother  saw 
the  end  was  not  far  off,  and  at  once  we  sent  for  all  the  other 
members  of  the  Mission  that  all  might  watch  with  him  in 
his  last  solemn  hour.  He  was  unconscious  the  wThole  time, 
and  his  breathing  laboured. 

“The  two  doctors  battled  for  an  hour  and  a  half  to  keep  off' 
Death’s  fatal  grasp,  but  to  no  purpose;  the  Lord  wanted  Ills 
faithful  worker,  and  we  could  not  keep  him,  though  we  wanted 
him  much,  and  knew  that  Willie  and  Jimmie  in  England  needed 
him  more. 

“Gradually  the  breathing  became  quieter  and  quieter,  till  at 
last  about  9.30,  he  just  closed  his  eyes  and  Hell  asleep,’  with 
the  peace  of  Heaven  resting  on  his  face.” 


13 


SERIES  OF  TWELVE  PROGRAMS 


Course  Number  One 
(Now  available) 

JAMES  CHALMERS,  Martyr  of  New  Guinea 
JAMES  GILMOUR,  Pioneer  in  Mongolia 
WILFRED  T.  GRENFELL,  Knight-Errant  of  the  North 
ADONIRAM  JUDSON,  Herald  of  the  Cross  in  Burma 
ION  KEITH-FALCONER,  Defender  of  the  Faith  in  Arabia 
DAVID  LIVINGSTONE,  Africa’s  Pathfinder  and  Emancipator 
ALEXANDER  M.  MACKAY,  Uganda’s  White  Man  of  Work 
HENRY  MARTYN,  Persia’s  Man  of  God 
ROBERT  MORRISON,  Protestant  Pioneer  in  China 
JOHN  G.  PAT  ON,  King  of  the  Cannibals 
MARY  SLESSOR,  The  White  Queen  of  Calabar 
MARCUS  WHITMAN,  Hero  of  the  Oregon  Country 

Course  Number  Two 

(In  preparation) 

CAPTAIN  LUKE  BICKEL,  Master  Mariner  of  the  Inland  Sea 
WILLIAM  CAREY,  Founder  of  Modern  Missions 
ALEXANDER  DUFF,  India’s  Educational  Pioneer 
MARY  PORTER  GAMEWELL,  Heroine  of  the  Boxer  Rebellion 
FRANK  HIGGINS,  Sky  Pilot  of  the  Lumbermen 
ROBERT  LAWS,  Founder  of  Livingstonia 
RAYMOND  LULL,  First  Missionary  to  the  Moslems 
JOHN  K.  MACKENZIE,  The  Beloved  Physician  of  Tientsin 

JAMES  COLERIDGE  PATTESON,  Martyr  Bishop  of  the  South 
Seas 

ALBERT  L.  SHELTON,  Pioneer  in  Tibet 

J.  HUDSON  TAYLOR,  Organizer  of  the  China  Inland  Mission 

JOHN  WILLIAMS,  Shipbuilder  in  the  South  Seas 


No.  229-M.E.-I-1  M-June,  1925 


